


Out of Left Field

by bigficenergy



Series: Equal and Opposite [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Laughter During Sex, M/M, Really Enthusiastic Bottoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 05:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigficenergy/pseuds/bigficenergy
Summary: “Are we gonna talk about it?”“Talk about what?” Patrick asks, more breath than voice.“What’s gotten into you lately.”Patrick huffs. “There’s a joke in there somewhere."





	Out of Left Field

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a two-chapter thing I wanted to call "Equal and Opposite", because it was two times when high emotions (during sex) resulted in unexpected reactions. The two parts started to feel more like their own separate things, though, and I didn't want to give up the title, so it's a series now. This is probably it, part 2 of 2, but now I can add to it if I come up with anything else that fits the theme.
> 
> I kept getting smut-blocked while trying to write this part, so I hope it came out okay? I know from discussions I've arrived to too late that there are at least a few Rosebudd Motel folks who will probably, um, love this journey for Patrick.
> 
> This would have to be set after "A Whisper of Desire", but probably before "The M.V.P."

When Patrick had decided to audition for _ Cabaret_, he’d figured the time commitment would be a pretty set schedule. Of course, when he’d decided to audition, it had been Jocelyn’s show. _ Cabaret_, now directed by Moira Rose, required one to be on-call for various consultations. Tonight, it was a 10:45pm call about costumes.

“Just hang up, it’s _ fine_,” David insists from his spot lounging on Patrick’s bed.

After the day’s rehearsal they’d had dinner, Patrick showered while David washed his face, moisturized, etcetera, etcetera, and they’d gotten dressed for bed. David wasn’t quick enough to stop Patrick from answering the call from Moira, and now he’s in the kitchen talking to her while David is stretched out on top of the bed covers, scrolling on his phone. They’re both getting antsy, but Patrick waves off the suggestion to hang up on his boyfriend’s eccentric mother.

“Uh-huh, just give me a second, I’ll pull it up,” he says to her, opening his laptop on the kitchen table to see the images she’s just told him she’d emailed.

Behind him, David grumbles. Patrick steals a glance over his shoulder to make sure David is looking, then bends over rather more than necessary to look at his computer. If David wants him so bad, he can come get him.

Patrick has been having a lot of thoughts like that lately, and he’s figured out that it has something to do with rehearsing for the show. When they’d first gotten started, rehearsals had been rough. After the first one, he had been exhausted and was seriously doubting his dancing abilities. (David had only teased him a little before rubbing his back, giving him a languorous blowjob, and putting him to bed.)

Things got easier, as they do with practice, and for the numbers that were still really difficult, he and Stevie were talking about finding a dance instructor to help them out on the side. But he was officially having fun with it. He had always been generally athletic, but dancing in particular was forcing him to get more in touch with his body than he’d ever had to be before. This ended up translating in fun ways when he went home to David.

There had always been an easy give-and-take between the two of them, but lately he’s been subtly encouraging David to be rougher with him, loving the physical challenge of being pushed and cornered and held in place. A few nights ago, he’d suddenly wanted David to pin his wrists to the bed mid-fuck. Already beyond words, he opted instead for reaching back and grabbing the bars of the headboard with both hands. He hadn’t expected David to think much of it, but was very pleasantly surprised when he’d reached back down to touch himself, and David had taken his wrist, moved his hand back to the bars, and fucked him harder into the mattress. With a shocked gasp of “_Oh shit_,” Patrick had come untouched a moment later. David had looked like he wanted to high five himself, and Patrick would have conceded that he’d earned it.

Tonight, he’d planned to ask for something specific. Nothing too racy, just something that for some reason, they hadn’t done before. Mrs. Rose’s call had interrupted those plans, but with the mood he’s been in, Patrick decides to make it part of the game, to tease David and see what he'll do about it.

“Yeah, those look great, Mrs. Rose,” Patrick says into the phone, arching his back a little in his bent-over position as he scrolls through photos of expensive trousers and accessories. “But honestly, I think what we have is fine. I know you didn’t want to go the secondhand route, but that leaves more costume budget for the ladies. Yeah… Yeah, I know, but I don’t think the audience is going to care where the suspenders are from.” He smiles to himself and raises his voice so her can be sure David hears him. “I think the fact that I’ll be in little more than suspenders is more the point.”

They’re interrupted by Mrs. Rose getting another call. She puts him on hold.

“Hi, mom,” comes David’s voice behind him. Patrick looks back to see David had been Mrs. Rose’s other caller.

“Yeah, so it’s late, and we’d very much like to go sleep sometime before the sun comes up,” David says to her. “Do you think you could finish this conversation some other- ew! Can you _ not _ say things like that to _ me_, your _ son_? We _ do _ need to sleep, but also, it’s none of your business if we’re not sleeping.” He gets up and heads toward the kitchen. “I’m making Patrick hang up now since he’s too nice to do it himself. Uh-huh. Yes, he is a ‘fine inamorato’ and I’m very lucky.”

Patrick turns his back to David and tries to hold his phone out of reach, but David crowds him against the table and snags it.

“Okay, we’re going now,” David continues. “You can talk to him at the next rehearsal. Goodnight!”

David hangs up both phones and sets them on the table. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s middle and rests his chin on his shoulder with a sigh. Patrick leans back into him, tracing his fingers along one of David’s bare forearms. He likes all of David’s weird, high-end sweaters, but the way he wears them every day like a uniform makes seeing him in a t-shirt at the end of the day basically the equivalent of seeing him in lingerie.

“Next time? Just don’t answer,” David says.

“Could’ve been important.”

“And your drive to excel in literally everything you do is very attractive,” David says, trailing kisses down Patrick’s neck and running a hand up his stomach to his chest.

Patrick grins and closes his eyes. “But...?”

David bites down at the base of Patrick’s neck and sucks, hard enough to make him exhale sharply, but restrained enough to not leave a lasting mark.

“I forget,” David murmurs against the spot, pushing his hands up under Patrick’s t-shirt.

One hand rests steadily on his stomach, feeling the way his body twitches as his breath hitches. The other slides up again, and David brushes his thumb against one of Patrick’s nipples. Generally, Patrick enjoys a little stimulation there well enough. But maybe David is onto him tonight, because he makes a second pass, and then pinches. Patrick gasps and his hips jump forward. David rolls Patrick’s nipple between his fingers and Patrick whines, head falling back against David’s shoulder. David switches to his other nipple and does the same, Patrick’s hips continuing to twitch through the onslaught of sensation. He shivers when David exhales what might be a laugh against his neck.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Patrick asks, more breath than voice.

“What’s gotten into you lately.”

Patrick huffs. “There’s a joke in there somewhere. Something about you getting into me. Sooner rather than later.”

“Hmm. Is that what you want?”

Patrick nods.

“Any specifications?”

Patrick feels his face flush. “David…”

David drops both hands to the hem of Patrick’s shirt, and Patrick raises his arms so that David can pull it off and discard it on the table. His hands go to Patrick’s hips, walking him backwards away from the table. Patrick assumes they’re heading for the bedroom, but after two small steps David stops, and one of his hands slides up Patrick’s back to grip his shoulder. There’s a pause, and just as Patrick realizes what’s happening, David pushes, bending him over. Patrick grunts in surprise, catching himself with his hands flat on the table. His head is spinning and he needs more, but David hesitates, so Patrick pushes his ass greedily into David’s crotch. David hums, amused, and pushes on his shoulder while pulling him back more by his hip, so that he’s leaning with his forearms on the table and his stance widened.

“Don’t get me wrong, this is _ very _ interesting,” David says, bending down to speak right into Patrick’s ear. “But I really would prefer if you told me what you want. I don’t want to guess wrong.”

Reluctantly, Patrick straightens up and turns to face him, leaning back against the table. David’s eyes are immediately drawn to the erection tenting Patrick’s striped pajama pants.

“You haven’t been wrong yet,” Patrick says with a grin.

David rolls his eyes, but takes Patrick by the hand and pulls him to the bedroom. He pushes him back onto the bed and Patrick goes easily, scooting back to lay comfortably. David climbs on top of him, considers him for a moment, then gently moves Patrick’s arms up, sliding his hands from the soft underside of his upper arms, to his forearms, to his wrists, encouraging him to hold onto the bars of the headboard.

“If you’re not gonna tell me what you’re angling for, I’m just going to have to go with what I already know you like,” David says, his face close enough to Patrick’s that their noses brush.

He’s lingering with his hands on Patrick’s forearms, and it reminds him of the time he'd had to pick David up from Stevie's after a particularly busy day of working the store by himself had ended with the two of them getting high. In the car on the ride home, a blissfully stoned David had waxed poetic about Patrick’s strong arms, how they looked in every single shirt he owned, and what he wanted him to do with them. It’s nice to know it hadn’t just been the weed talking.

Eventually David stands and strips out of his shirt and sweatpants. It’s not his style to be showy about undressing (except for on special occasions, such as one very memorable Valentine's Day), but Patrick enjoys the view anyway. When he’s down to his boxer briefs, he turns his attention back to Patrick, tugging off his pajama pants and boxers in one go. David says something, but it's lost to Patrick, who is reeling from the rush of being so unceremoniously exposed.

"Huh?"

"I said I want you to hold onto something else for me," David repeats, climbing back onto the bed and guiding Patrick’s hands away from the bars. He brings one down as he pushes one of Patrick’s knees up and miraculously, Patrick’s brain tunes into what’s going on and he wraps his hands under his knees, pulling them back and apart. He has to admit that the stretch feels good, but he also knows how he must look. He can’t hold back an embarrassed whimper as David looks him over approvingly.

“Too much?”

Patrick shakes his head. David waits as if he’s given no response until Patrick says, verbally, “No.”

Satisfied, David reaches over for the lube on the nightstand. When he doesn’t start touching him again right away, Patrick looks down to find David waiting to meet his eye. With the lube abandoned somewhere on the bed, David’s hands are free to spread Patrick open so he can dip his tongue between his cheeks, licking once, lasciviously, against his hole. Patrick’s whole body jerks and he gasps aloud when David removes his tongue and blows gently, definitely watching as Patrick's muscles contract in response.

“Next time,” David says, pulling back.

By the time Patrick can pull together enough words to protest it doesn’t really matter, because David is easing one slick finger inside of him, and Patrick’s head is falling back against the pillows with a satisfied groan. 

One finger works into him efficiently, then becomes two. Two fingers curl in search of his prostate, rubbing insistently until his eyes roll back and his cock is leaking steadily. Two fingers become three, and then he’s digging his nails into his own legs where he’s still holding them open, even as his arms begin tremble.

“Good?” David asks, pressing a quick kiss to one of Patrick’s calves.

Patrick starts nodding before remembering to say out loud, “Yeah, yeah, good.”

David removes his fingers and climbs off the bed. With some effort, Patrick lifts his head and sees David pulling off his underwear. He rejoins him on the bed and produces a condom from somewhere at his feet that he must have grabbed earlier.

“Wait.”

David stops and looks at him. Usually, there would be at least a tinge of concern in his gaze if Patrick hit pause, but now, he just looks expectant.

“I want…”

Patrick stops short, and David continues to wait. With a sigh, Patrick lets go of his legs, planting his feet on the bed and covering his face with his hands.

“There’s no eloquent way to ask for this.”

“Then don’t ask eloquently,” David counters, and Patrick can hear the barely suppressed smirk in his voice. He moves his hands from his face, but keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

“I want it… you… I want you to…” It’s like the world's most embarrassing fill-in-the-blank, the words “do”, “take”, and “fuck” all swirling around in his head. “I want you to fuck me from behind,” he finally blurts out.

He feels that David would be well within his right to laugh here, but his face actually softens at the admission.

“How come you were so nervous to ask that?” David’s voice is gentle, genuinely curious.

“Oh, you’ve… you know we’ve never done it like that before, right?”

By the look on David’s face, it seems like he hadn’t actually realized.

“I thought maybe it was on purpose. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by asking,” Patrick explains.

“Um…” David says, voice just above a whisper, brows knit. “I guess it was on purpose at first. When we first started… I didn’t want it to feel, I don’t know, impersonal for you. And then later I…”

Patrick reaches out and rubs David’s arm, encouraging him to continue. David squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t know, I sort of liked that you never asked to do it that way. It made it less likely that you were thinking of someone else.”

Patrick can’t stop the surprised laugh this startles out of him. David glares.

“I’m sorry, I just… who else would I be thinking of?”

“Some famous sports person who’s in much better shape than me? Keanu Reeves in _ Point Break_? Ted, apparently?”

A grin breaks free on David's face as he makes the last suggestion and Patrick is relieved that this has devolved into teasing. The thing that happened with Ken still feels fresh, and he'd rather not revisit it.

“Alright come on, you at least know now that I’m not thinking of anyone else.” He tugs David down so he’s leaning over him, hands braced on either side of his head. “And I promise, this could never be impersonal. There’s no one else who could ever make me feel the way you do.”

David's mouth twists, and he clears his throat. “Well _ that _ was very eloquent.”

“It comes and goes,” Patrick says, barely finishing his thought before he’s pulling David down to kiss him.

Their bodies slot together and it’s as if they’ve simply pressed “play” again. Nothing has ever been as easy as getting back on track with David. It's why their fights never last long - it simply doesn't feel right to not talk to each other or reach out for one another.

All of Patrick’s limbs are wrapped possessively around David when David breaks the kiss, panting against his lips.

“Do you still want…?”

Patrick nods. “Yeah. Yeah if you’re up for it.”

He can feel David’s smile more than see it this close up.

“There's a joke in there somewhere,” David says and Patrick laughs, kissing him once more before David is disentangling himself and giving him a tap on the thigh to indicate that he should turn over.

Before he settles on his stomach, David takes one of the pillows, folds it in half, and gets it under Patrick’s hips. That little extra boost makes him feel a lot more exposed, and he wraps his arms around the other pillow that's under his head. David makes a contemplative sound behind him, and Patrick looks over his shoulder.

“What?”

“It’s possible that I’ve been doing myself a disservice,” he says, head tilted as he looks him over. “This is quite a view.”

Patrick buries his head in the pillow with a muffled, embarrassed sound, but rocks back at the same time. He feels David’s big hands on his ass, sliding up and spreading him open.

“Yeah come on,” he mumbles breathlessly, choking on a moan when feels David's hips pressed against him, his cock sliding between his cheeks.

He pulls away and Patrick hears the slick sound of lube, and then he’s back, pressing the head of his dick against his hole. He pushes in slowly, and when Patrick squirms, opening his mouth to egg him on, David shoves forward, thrusting all the way in.

Patrick _ howls _into the pillow. He turns his head, gasping, waiting for David to move. He realizes David is petting at his back, saying something.

“Patrick, _ Jesus_, are you okay? Do you need me to-”

It slowly occurs to him that the sound he’d just made could have been mistaken for pain. The realization makes him laugh.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists. “Sorry, I swear, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” David sounds distressed. “It’s harder to tell like this…”

“David,” Patrick says, as resolutely as he can manage. “In the _ very _ unlikely event I want you to stop, I’ll make it clear. Okay?”

“Okay,” David says softly. His hands go back to Patrick’s hips, but when he still hesitates, Patrick takes it upon himself to rock back into him.

“_Ohhh, David _ ,” he groans. “Come on, _ please_.”

David’s grip on him tightens and finally, _ finally_, he moves. Patrick hangs on, listening until David moans, high and breathy, before dropping his head and thrusting back hard.

“God, yes, yes,” he starts to babble. “Jesus David, you’re _ so big_, feels so good.”

David whines and his hips stutter. It’s not that Patrick doesn’t talk during sex, he just tends to stick to general affirmatives, yeses and pleases. The more specific and _ explicit _ he gets, the faster David loses his cool.

“So deep, oh fuck,” Patrick pants. “Been thinking about you inside me all day. Come on, harder. I can take it. Harder. _ Fuck me harder_.”

“_God _, what happened to ‘please’, huh?” David asks, through a frantic gasp. “Wanna drop one of those in there somewhere?”

A laugh bubbles out from deep in Patrick’s chest. “Thought it was implied.”

He’d hoped that getting a rise out of David would spur him on, but instead, David pulls out nearly all the way and stops. When Patrick tries to chase him, David grips his hips tighter, holding him still. Patrick’s fists clench on the pillow.

“Fine, fine, please, _ please_, David,” he begs.

David thrusts back into him and Patrick moans, unabashed, wanton.

“You’re so easy right now,” David teases. “I think I like you easy.”

Normally he’d protest, or at least poke back, but David is right. He’s feeling pretty easy right now, laid bare, happy to take what David is giving him and more. He thinks he likes it too. His cock grinds into the pillow under him with every thrust and he can feel the wet mess he's making. David is usually the more sensitive of the two of them, and Patrick loves working him up, making him so wet that he can stroke him off without lube. He wonders briefly if this is how good that feels for him.

His mind is wiped clean of any thought when David kicks up the pace another notch, knocking unbidden sounds out of him with every hard, deep thrust.

“Is this how you wanted it?” David grits out, still tinged with a bit of uncertainty, with the genuine need to know this is good for him.

Patrick opens his mouth in a valiant effort to speak, but all that comes out is a hard sob that he hopes sounds positive. He scrabbles at the bed for purchase, bracing himself so he can try to push back, to keep participating even as his brain feels like it’s melting.

Suddenly David’s hands are gone from his hips and he’s pressed further into the mattress, David’s chest to his back. One of his hands is braced somewhere near Patrick’s head, and the other hooks under his shoulder, gripping hard and using it for leverage, pulling Patrick into him as he thrusts sharply.

“Oh fuck, _ David! _” Patrick shouts over the obscene sound of their bodies slamming together. He’s really just taking it now, unable to move, pressing his forehead into the pillow. David bites down on his shoulder and Patrick chokes into silence mid-moan, his whole body beginning to tense. He clenches hard around David’s cock and David cries out.

“_God, _yeah, that’s it,” David gasps, voice high and thin. “You gonna come?”

Somehow, Patrick manages to nod even though he can hardly breathe. He should’ve come already, really, but he just keeps climbing, his inevitable orgasm building and building inside him.

“Come on, show me, show me how bad you want it.” It feels like David is smiling against his shoulder, and then he says, “You gonna do it? You gonna come on my _ big cock_?”

The shocked laugh that escapes Patrick blends into a moan as his eyes squeeze shut, his back arches, and he topples over the edge, coming in long, deep pulses. As he sobs into the pillow, wave after endless wave of pleasure crashing over him, David’s movements stutter to a stop.

“Don’t stop don't stop _ don’t stop_,” Patrick pleads raggedly.

“Oh god, I can’t, I’m gonna-” David pants, but he moves, thrusting once, twice, and holding on the third time, emptying himself into the condom with a relieved, satisfied groan. He manages to hold himself up for another few seconds before collapsing, making an effort to keep his weight off to the side rather than directly on top of Patrick.

Even after Patrick is spent, the aftershocks continue to spark through him, pulling tired little sounds out of David each time his muscles squeeze around him. As they catch their breath, the world slowly comes back into focus. Patrick feels _ wrecked _. He’s sweaty, sore, and bone-deep satisfied, David draped over him, overwhelming his senses. He still has a hand grasping his shoulder, and Patrick brings one of his hands down to cover it. They can’t lace their fingers together at this angle, but David squeezes his shoulder in acknowledgement.

Occasionally, usually when Patrick is looking at the life he has with David and is feeling really fucking lucky, his mind will go to a dark, “what if?” place. In those times, it seems like it would have been so easy to not end up here. He’d been close, hadn’t he? He’d proposed to Rachel. All he would’ve had to do was stay. They would’ve gotten married. He would’ve found a job that was probably a little boring, but he’d excel, climb the ranks, help ensure they had a comfortable life.

All he did was leave. It hadn’t even been his intention to “find himself” or really figure things out. He probably wouldn’t have come to Schitt’s Creek if he’d had any plans beyond a change of scenery, a first step toward something different, steps #2 and on TBD. He’s lost track of the steps he’s taken to get to this life that makes his old one unrecognizable. The old him, despite base similarities, feels like a completely different person. The old him never would have chosen investing in a fledgling business over a stable office job. The old him never would have opened himself up to possibility enough to fall in love with a man. The old him might have auditioned for a community theater production, but never would have said yes to an offer of the lead role. And the old him certainly wouldn’t have ever had the kind of sex he’d just had with David.

What a tragedy _ that _would have been.

Patrick snorts. Usually when he gets into one of these spirals, he needs to wrap his arms around David, or look at the sales reports for the store, or text Stevie one of their inside jokes in order to find equilibrium again. In this moment, he just wants to laugh. His life has been strange and unexpected, life in general makes no goddamn sense, and suddenly it all just seems so funny. He chuckles into the pillow. What’s wrong with him? Maybe David knocked something loose in him just now. His shoulders shake with how much _ that _ thought makes him giggle. David takes notice.

“Are you…? What’s going on, are you okay?” David asks, mistaking Patrick’s reaction once again for something negative. Patrick starts to laugh harder and David moves off of him, tossing the condom away and encouraging Patrick to turn over on his back.

“Hey, hey, talk to me, are you- oh… what?”

He clearly hadn’t expecting the goofy smile on Patrick’s face and the heaving breaths he’s taking to try to stop laughing.

“Aha, sorry,” Patrick says shakily. “I don’t even know… I’m not laughing at you if that’s what…”

David eyes him warily, but moves to knock away the folded pillow that had been under Patrick so he can lay next to him. Patrick’s hand shoots out to stop him.

“Careful,” he says, biting back a fresh wave of giggles. “You’re probably gonna want to incinerate that.”

David looks at the pillow and Patrick watches as he processes the mess he’d left on it, his face reflecting a wide range of emotions, the most prominent of which are pride and disgust. It sets Patrick off again.

“God, your _ face_.”

“I thought you weren’t laughing at me,” David says, as drops the pillow gingerly on the ground soiled side up.

“I’m not, I swear,” Patrick wheezes.

“Okay, it’s just that historically? This much laughter in bed usually ends up being at my expense. Or, it’s ends up being an unsettling quirk of a person who shortly thereafter ghosts me and ends up god knows where.”

“Birthday clown?” Patrick asks with an undignified snort.

“Birthday clown was actually a crier.” David grimaces. “I’d rather not get into it.”

Patrick’s laughter eventually tapers off and he lets out a big sigh, reaching for David. David rolls his eyes but quickly acquiesces, laying on his side with his head pillowed on Patrick’s shoulder and his hand on his chest. Patrick rubs David’s arm affectionately.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says again, his voice steadier now. “That was… incredible. And then I got in my head for a second and just… life is really weird.”

“Mm, so it was existential crisis laughter,” David says. “Oddly, it sounds similar to your drunk-duet-of-‘Summer Nights’-with-Stevie laughter.”

“Not a crisis,” Patrick corrects. “Not anymore. Not since I met you.”

“Okay. Still. Do you want to talk about it?”

Patrick presses a kiss on top of David’s head. “I’m okay. I’m just really thankful to be here with you. Sorry if I freaked you out.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” David says, shaking his head. “It was just a little out of left field.”

Patrick pulls back to look at David, startling him.

“What, what’s wrong?”

“David… did you just use a sports metaphor?”

“Did I use a… oh. Um, I’m pretty sure that’s a really common saying? I’m sure lots of people use it without knowing anything about baseball.”

“I never said it was specifically baseball-related.” Patrick looks _ delighted_. “You know baseball things!”

“I don’t ‘_know baseball things_’,” David says, like it had been a defamatory accusation. “I just know Patrick things.”

He says it like it’s _ not _ the sweetest thing he could possibly say in the moment, and all Patrick can do is kiss him hard, their noses smushing together awkwardly. When he pulls back, David is smiling.

“I learned some new Patrick things tonight.”

Patrick laughs. “Well, you can file those away in the special occasions folder. I’m afraid I’m not gonna be able to get out of bed tomorrow.”

“You?!” David says incredulously. “_I'm _the one who’s getting too old to go at it like that. And if you tell anyone I admitted that, I will hide your baseball mitten.”

“It’s just 'mitt'. And you performed very well for your advanced age.”

David rolls away and climbs off the bed in a huff.

“Laugh it up while you can,” David says, heading for the bathroom. “Stevie is coming by the store tomorrow to sample new items for the motel. Have fun explaining to her why you’re walking funny. She _ will _ notice.”

Patrick leans up on his elbows. “Who says I’ll be walking funny?”

“Mm, after that?” David leans on the door frame of the bathroom, an infuriatingly smug smirk on his face. “It’s just a fact of the matter.”

Patrick scoffs. “You’re that sure of yourself?”

David crosses his arms. “Prove me wrong. Come join me in the shower.”

Patrick sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed, and knows immediately that he’s lost. He braces himself to stand but winces anyway when he does. He’ll be sorer in the morning, but right now he mostly feels open, used. He’d be enjoying the hell out of the feeling if David wasn’t watching him, waiting for the awkwardness in his gait that he knows is going to be there. He takes a few steps and David bites his lip so as not to laugh.

“Fine, you win, can you not watch me please?”

David turns obediently and goes to turn on the shower. They get in and rinse under the spray, the hot water relaxing Patrick instantly. He’s not prepared when David crowds him from behind into one of the tiled walls. He puts his hands out to brace himself, and then David is pulling his hips back so he’s bent over. He kneels behind Patrick, hands on his ass, thumbs spreading him open gently. The slight pain and the thrill of anticipation make Patrick hiss.

“What are you doing?” he asks over his shoulder.

David looks up at him and shrugs with a coy smile.

“Kissing it better.”

**Author's Note:**

> While "out of left field" is indeed a common phrase, the idea to use it for the title came from the same song that part one's title came from: ["Happy" by Meg & Dia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPYIBFC6Owc).
> 
> I also just want to share that through this, I've accidentally created a headcanon for myself that David starts intentionally getting baseball terminology wrong so he doesn't have to admit to Patrick that he's been paying attention when he puts a game on. What a brat, I love him.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ❤️ Say hi on [Tumblr](https://fraudulentzodiac.tumblr.com/).


End file.
